Lincolns

   When I was fourteen, I started hanging at Lincolns most afternoons. The city bus dropped me off on Grandview about 3:20. Depending on how much money I had, I would buy, in descending order: cigarettes, an orange Nehi, and an French apple TastyPie.
   Richard told me that it doesn't always pay to save money. He had bragged about the two hundred dollars in his account at the savings and loan next to the new A & P. When it folded, he got ten cents on the dollar.
   I was in the ninth grade when I first crossed Grandview to find new friends. My first year out of St. Jeromes and I felt like an Acid at a Base Convention. At St. Jeromes the nuns, although strict, had a warm regard for their students. They were nearly surrogate mothers. At Tech High I was just another snooty-nosed Catholic scholar who was fair game for the upper classmen's hazing.
   And at home to it was difficult, too. My father had started a war of nerves with my older sister. For instance, he would lock the screen door as well as the regular door exactly at

 

the time he told Suzanne should be home. Then there'd be a scene when she knocked and rang the doorbell. Sometimes it developed into a physical fight.
   So I enjoyed my time away from home and school. Just where to spend my time was a problem. I wasn't sure that I would enjoy Lincoln's.
   Luke and I had wandered to the corner grocery for the first time on a Saturday. We bought sodas, talked to a few kids by the pinball machine, and stood around on the concrete pavement that was like an apron around the store for a while.
   We chatted with Josh, the sonofabitch, and Rusty and watched the cute girls. Lincoln's didn't do a high volume business but it was very convenient for between weekly shopping trips.
   Bart wasn't there that Saturday morning. From how often his name came up, I could tell that he was important on that corner.
   About a week later, I had run into Betsy on the bus, one of the benefits of the ride, and the two of us walked together down Grandview.